


Jaime/Brienne Short Works

by parenthetic (renaissance)



Series: Short Work Collections [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Ficlet Collection, Other: See Story Notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-31 02:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 3,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12122316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renaissance/pseuds/parenthetic
Summary: A collection of Jaime/Brienne ficlets posted to tumblr between 2014-16, varying in length from one sentence to several hundred words. See individual chapter titles for notes.





	1. Jaime/Brienne + extremely long train ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a prompt from scvlly on tumblr. 6/9/14
> 
> Warnings: sexual references

If there’s one thing Jaime hates, it’s catching intercity trains. He doesn’t have a phobia, or anything, because that would be stupid—it’s just that he’s  _so_ tall, and the legroom is  _so_ limited. He tries to book an aisle seat, but sometimes the train fills up early and he’s stuck by the window, which, okay, is fine for going to Highgarden, because at least there’s nice scenery, but when you’re stuck on an eight-hour train from King’s Landing to bloody Winterfell, the last thing you want is a window seat.

So, of course, Jaime only finds out that he needs to go to Winterfell the night before, and there are only two seats left on the train—both of them by the window. He picks at random and hopes for the best.

It’s one of the old trains, too, where the windows don’t open and your luggage rattles on flimsy metal overhead racks. When Jaime gets there, the person in the aisle seat is already there.

“‘Scuse me,” he says, “I’m by the window.”

She gets up, and Jaime has to stop his mouth from hanging open. Standing before him is the tallest woman he has ever seen, at least a few inches taller than him, and with a face like a man who gets punched in the nose for a living.

“Are you going to sit down?” she asks him. He realises he’s staring.

“Right, yeah,” he says, putting his suitcase on the rack and sliding sideways into his seat.

She’s silent as the train creaks into motion, reading something on her tablet. Jaime notices that her legs are even more cramped than his. He wonders if she’s an athlete. He pulls his laptop out of his messenger bag and stealthily tilts it towards the window so that she can’t see as he types “tall female athlete king’s landing” into google. There are “About 2,620,000 results (0.44 seconds)” but when he clicks through to images, none of them are her. He changes “king’s landing” to “winterfell”—still nothing.

He gives up and checks his email.

About an hour into the ride, she gets up, presumably to go to the bathroom, and leaves her tablet on her seat. Jaime picks it up and flips open the cover—it’s password protected. He shuts it and sighs.

When she comes back, she gives her tablet an odd look, like maybe she noticed that Jaime got sloppy and put it back in a different position, or upside-down.

He googles her again—“tall blonde female”—“About 2,250,000 results (0.23 seconds)”—all porn.

It takes him a second to realise she’s spoken to him.

“Are you—are you looking at porn?”

He looks at her, and then back down at his laptop. Okay, so he’d accidentally opened the RedTube “sexy_tall_viking_giantess_blonde_girl.mkv” link. That sort of thing happens a lot with a touchpad.

“No,” he says. He closes the tab. “tall female athlete winterfell” is still open.

Her eyes go wide.

“Did you try to  _google me_?”

"No,” Jaime says, shutting his laptop, “no, absolutely not.”

She blushes. “Oh my god, you googled me, I can’t believe this…”

“It’s not what it looks like,” he says.

“It’s always the same with men like you,” she says with anger. “They see a girl who doesn’t look like the girls in the porn mags they grew up reading, and they think,  _why_?  _Why_ doesn’t she look like I expect her to?”

She takes a breath, almost like she’s embarrassed at speaking out.

"You’re right,” Jaime says. “It was petty, I was stupid, and I won’t do it again.”

Her mouth hangs open. Sometimes— _sometimes_ —pretending to be a decent human being is worth it for the looks on people’s faces.

She doesn’t speak again until the train hits the Riverlands. He’s busy replying to an email from a client—one of the ones his sister sent his way, shady people with shadier problems—when she gives him a nudge.

“I’m going to the dining car,” she says. “Do you want a sandwich, or anything?”

Jaime is so surprised that he just nods and pulls out his wallet. “Anything with some meat in it,” he says, handing her ten dollars.

She rolls her eyes. “Coffee?”

“Double espresso,” he says.

She leaves her tablet open.

Jaime picks it up almost greedily and scrolls through the PDF she’s been reading—it’s  _Twilight_. He laughs aloud, reading through a few pages—it’s total crap, but he could see how it might be a compelling romance if you were an ugly girl with no boyfriend and an overactive imagination.

He gets so involved that he doesn’t notice her return.

“What the  _fuck_.”

"I can explain,” he says hastily, closing the tablet cover, putting it back on her seat.

“Pick it back up,” she says—her hands are full of sandwiches and coffee, and Jaime realises she doesn’t want to sit down on her tablet.

She rests his coffee and sandwich on his closed laptop, and opens up her own tray for her food. “Egg salad,” she says. “They didn’t have anything else left.”

“Damn,” Jaime says. He’s not as disappointed as he sounds. He tentatively tries to hand her back the tablet.

She sighs. “I guess you’d better tell me why you were looking at my things.”

He decides to be honest. “You left it open. I was curious.”

She shakes her head.

He keeps going. “ _Twilight_ , though, really? I thought that was teenage fiction. Or maybe sad middle-aged—”

“Finish that sentence,” she says, “and I’m taking your sandwich back.”

Jaime is silent.

“I’m an English teacher, alright?” she says, exhasperated. “I’m giving a talk on young adult literature at North Westeros University. And I’ve given a  _lot_ of lectures to children on why they shouldn’t touch other people’s stuff without their permission. So do you want to tell me why you apparently didn’t get a proper education?”

"I was raised in a barn,” Jaime jokes. “I was schooled out the back of a truck in Flea Bottom, and—”

“I am  _not_ wasting my time talking to you.”

“ _Okay_ ,” he snaps, “I’m an asshole. Thanks for the food; now I’m out of your hair.” _  
_

They don’t talk again until the train arrives at Winterfell Central.

"Good luck with your talk,” Jaime says as she pulls her suitcase down from the rack.

She gives him A Look. “Who  _are_ you?” she asks, like she can’t believe he’s still there.

“Jaime Lannister, Attorney at Law,” he says, “Targaryen & Baratheon in King’s Landing. If you ever need anything—”

He reaches into his wallet and fishes out a spare business card.

“—give me a call.”

She laughs. She actually  _laughs_ at him. It’s the most beautiful sound Jaime’s ever heard.

“Not likely,” she says, taking the business card and heading down the aisle.

“Wait!” he calls out on a whim. “I never got your name!”

“You can google the English faculty at King’s Landing Senior College,” she says. Someone’s blocking his view, but Jaime could swear she gives him the finger over her shoulder.

He’s not paying too much attention, though—he pulls out his laptop and types in “english faculty king’s landing senior college”—“About 62,300,000 results (0.43 seconds)”, and he clicks the top one.

There she is—Brienne Tarth. It even has an email address next to her name.

That night, in his hotel room, he presses send.


	2. Jaime/Brienne + fake relationship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a prompt from an anonymous user on tumblr: Jaime/Brienne + "You want me to do what?" 3/2/15

“You want me to do _what_?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Jaime says. Brienne is still looking at him with her jaw dropped. Jaime wonders what would happen if he stuck one of the breadsticks at the restaurant into her mouth.

“Jaime,” Brienne says—and his name coming from her is a warning. They’ve known each other long enough that first name basis is normal, but Brienne only calls him “Jaime” when she’s angry. Otherwise, it’s “Lannister.”

“ _Brienne_ ,” he says, taking his time on the _n_. “I asked you a question.”

Brienne shakes her head. “The answer is no.”

“Just like that?” Jaime asks. “You’re not even going to consider it?”

“No,” Brienne says, like it’s the end of the matter.

Jaime isn’t so easily deterred.

“I wouldn’t ask,” he says, “unless it was serious.”

“ _Serious_ ,” Brienne echoes. “What could _possibly_  be serious about me pretending to be your girlfriend?”

She says the word _girlfriend_  like it’s an object of distate, like she feels wrong even having the word leave her mouth. She’s always so uncomfortable about romance, but Jaime knows it’s because she’s secretly the biggest romantic he’s ever met. It’s annoying, but he likes that about her.

“I told my father I’d bring a plus one to his Christmas dinner,” Jaime explains. “Ever since Cersei got hitched to that old drunk he’s been dropping hints that I should follow her example.”

“Why are you asking _me_ ,” Brienne says. “Why can’t you pay an actor, or something?”

Jaime rolls his eyes. “You’re my best friend. If I had to pick anyone—”

“Seriously?”

Brienne puts her fork down.

“You consider me your best friend?”

“Well, yeah,” Jaime says, shrugging. “You’re the person I talk to the most, and if I had to pick a safety wife, you’d be top of the list.”

Brienne blinks. “Hold on, _what_.”

“You know, like when two people say _if we’re not married by_ —”

“I know what a safety wife is,” Brienne snaps. “One moment you’re asking me to pretend to be your girlfriend, and the next, your safety wife?”

“One step at a time,” Jaime says lightly.

“Okay,” Brienne says, taking a deep breath, “I’ll pretend to be your girlfriend for one evening if you promise to _never_  mention marriage again.”

“Give it ten years,” Jaime says, “and if neither of us have found anyone else—”


	3. Jaime/Brienne + confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For an anonymous prompt on tumblr, Jaime/Brienne + "Can we pretend I didn't just say that?" 5/2/15

“Can we pretend I didn’t just say that?” Brienne said, pushing a hand over her eyes.

Jaime rewarded her with a laugh, loud and full, like she hadn’t heard him laugh in weeks. And it was weeks since they’d parted company with the Brotherhood Without Banners, weeks since they’d been in the Riverlands, weeks since they could remember what Summer was like. But Jaime still looked so _handsome_ , and Brienne had, to her detriment, slipped up—she’d _told_  him.

“Wench, I’ve never heard anything half so beautiful in my life,” Jaime said. “You can’t take that away from me.”

“I didn’t mean it in that sense,” Brienne said. “I only meant that, despite the journey, and the weather, you are remarkably—”

“—handsome,” Jaime finished. “That’s what you said! And I will hold you to it.”

“What is that meant to mean?” Brienne asked.

They had paused by a lake to wash—their first chance to bathe on the journey—but now, Brienne was not so sure that she wanted to stop. The last time she had bathed with Jaime was still fresh in her memory, and he had been just as handsome then, even though he was more emaciated and covered in filth.

Glancing back through the trees, Brienne hoped that Podrick and Ser Hyle would return promptly, to save her from the acute embarrassment of being alone with Jaime for so long.

“Only that, if anyone were to ask, I would be obliged to tell them that Brienne of Tarth thinks of me as handsome,” Jaime said.

“Thought,” Brienne said.

Jaime raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Boldly, Brienne cleared her throat. “You were far more handsome when you were not being so stubborn.”

Jaime did not seem to know how to respond to that. He paused, fixing Brienne with a confused look.

“Oh well,” he said, “at least I’m still _somewhat_  handsome.”


	4. Jaime/Brienne + walked in on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For an anonymous prompt on tumblr, "Jamie x Brienne, getting it on for Valentines day...but Margery walks in on them!" 13/2/15
> 
> Warnings: implied sexual content

Without a doubt, this is the worst decision Brienne has made in all her twenty-two years. She turns her key in the lock to her flat, and pushes her door open, crossing her fingers that Margaery isn’t there.

She isn’t.

“Okay,” Brienne says, glancing over her shoulder, “you can come in.”

Jaime nods, and Brienne looks away before she starts blushing at his self-satisfied smile. It makes sense that he’s pleased with himself, since he’s been taking her modern history tutorials since she was in first year, and hitting on her since second year. It’s only since she’s started her PhD that she’s acquiesced, and gone on a couple of dates with Jaime.

And now, it’s Valentine’s Day and for some unholy reason he invited himself back to her flat, just outside the campus. Brienne thinks that if she gets the jitters any harder she’ll fall out her window.

“Can I kiss you yet?” Jaime asks, just like that, like it’s nothing at all. Like kisses are the most normal thing for him, whereas Brienne had been spending the last month getting used to the fact that there was someone _interested in her_.

“Um,” Brienne says, eloquent as ever.

“Wait, don’t answer that,” Jaime says, shutting the door behind him and putting his shopping bags down on the couch. “It’s more romantic if I just kiss you.”

“No, it isn’t,” Brienne says. “It was nice that you asked. I was willing to believe you were a gentlema—”

Jaime kisses her, leaning forward and wrapping a hand around her neck. Brienne gasps into his mouth, her eyes blown wide open and her cheeks heating to what she knows from experience to be a violent shade of pink. It’s not like anything she’s experienced before—in fact, it’s kind of gross, and she lets out a laugh as Jaime licks her tongue with his. It’s _really_  gross. She laughs again, and nearly bites Jaime’s lip.

“All good?” Jaime asks.

Brienne would like to tell him that, no, this is actually the most ridiculous thing she’s ever done. Instead, she nods. “Yeah.”

Jaime casts a glance down the hallway. “When does your flatmate get back?”

“I don’t know,” Brienne admits. Margaery is a law unto herself.

“We’d better hurry, then,” Jaime says, “so that I have time to cook you that meal I promised.”

“Hurry with what?” Brienne asks, narrowing her eyes at Jaime. She’d thought the only purpose of his visit was to cook her a romantic dinner, or something stupid like that.

“You know,” Jaime says.

Brienne scowls at him, trying to prise his hand off her neck. It stays stubbornly put.

“No, I _don’t_ ,” she says. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Jaime sighs. “You know, uh, _getting it on_.”

Brienne is about to laugh in his face, when the front door swings open, and Margaery barges through.

"Hey Bri, are you home? Because— _oh_.”

Brienne becomes painfully aware of how close she and Jaime are standing, and that his hand is still on her neck.

"Oh, hi, uh.. Margaery,” Jaime says, not moving his hand. “How’s it going?”

“Sorry about this,” Brienne says, hastily stepping away from Jaime.

“It’s fine,” Margaery says, grinning from ear to ear. Brienne knows exactly what she’s thinking, and it’s _infuriating_. “I’ll come back later.”

“There’s no need to leave,” Brienne says, at the same time as Jaime says, “Please do.”

Margaery can, unfortunately, take a hint, and she backs out the door, giving Brienne a thumbs up.

Brienne sighs, wilting a little bit. She feels silly, and awkward, and she doesn’t know why she even agreed to this date in the first place.

“Now, where were we?” Jaime asks.

Before Brienne can say anything, Jaime nods to himself. “That’s right—I was going to make dinner.”

Brienne’s shoulders slump in relief as he picks up his groceries and heads for the kitchen. “You’re not so bad,” she calls out after him.

“Thanks,” he says, “I like you too.”


	5. Jaime/Brienne + jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a prompt from alias-sd6 on tumblr. 23/3/15

“Ser Hunt keeps looking in your direction,” Jaime says. It’s the fifth time in as many minutes, and although Jaime has tried his hardest to be menacing, Hunt has not been put off.

“What would you have me do about this?” Brienne asks. “I have long since stopped letting it trouble me.”

“It is not so much that it troubles _you_ , wench,” Jaime says. “More that—” 

“I do not understand him any more than you do,” Brienne says, “but truly, you needn’t worry. He no longer—”

“—it troubles _me_ ,” Jaime finishes.

They pause, Brienne halting her horse and Jaime following suit. Up ahead, Hunt looks back over his shoulder. Jaime ignores him, and focuses on the dawning expression on Brienne’s face.

“Wait,” she says. “Are you _jealous_?”


	6. Jaime/Brienne + things you said after you kissed me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a prompt from imagineagreatadventure on tumblr. 8/4/16

The woods hummed with the low rustling of leaves in the distance, a breeze that carried _winter_  in its whisper, and above that sound, or below it, or out of sight, Jaime’s words were lost.

“Wench, say something.”

Brienne winced at the name. Just for that, she would not apologise. “I did not hear what you said.”

“I said,” Jaime began, his voice strained, “that I have wanted to do that for quite some time now.”

“Oh.”

Brienne couldn’t form any other words, nothing to convey what that meant to her–of course, because she couldn’t have said what it meant to her, or even that it was real at all. And it confused her, because she, too, knew that she had wanted it as well.

She had _wanted_  to kiss Jaime Lannister. That, more than anything, was hard to understand, and yet, so simple.

“Say something,” he entreated.

A second time, and she would not miss her opportunity.

Leaning forward, tilting her head down, she kissed him–and it was louder than any words could be.


	7. Jaime/Brienne + things you said when you were scared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a prompt from izanaqi on tumblr. 8/4/16
> 
> Warnings: implied future character death

she sees it in the gait of his horse, ahead of her. a horse is not the measure of a man, but the way he rides gives much away. there’s an abiding anxiety that she’s never seen on him before—he doesn’t wear it well. for jaime lannister, a cloak of red and a sword of valyrian steel, golden armour and a golden hand. power, pride. not fear.

brienne watches. she lets him lead, because she, too, is afraid. afraid of what she’s done, of what she’s about to do. there will be no gold, no steel for her.

ahead, jaime turns his neck to look at her. she looks away.

“where are you taking me?” he asks. there is something in his voice she hasn’t heard before. she does not dwell on it. she does not.

all she says is, “you are going in the right direction.”

fear will not do for both of them.


	8. Jaime/Brienne + worship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a prompt on ask.fm. Date unknown.

On their twenty-fourth day wandering they pass an abandoned Sept, and Brienne stops to pray to the Seven. She pauses in front of the Warrior, and the Maiden, and she doesn't ask Jaime why he doesn't offer up any prayers of his own. Perhaps somehow she knows it's because even under the lights of the Gods, he still can't tear his eyes from her.


	9. Jaime/Brienne + Dorne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For an anonymous prompt on tumblr. Date unknown.

It’s not as Brienne expected, with hot wind blowing through her hair and sand in her eyes, but the beaches of Dorne are a sight like she’s never seen, and as it is her duty to guard Princess Myrcella, she does the best she can—it hasn’t been easy, though, since _he_ came to visit.  
  
Jaime has joined them at the beaches today, and as Myrcella runs off to play with Prince Trystane, he sits beside Brienne, wine in his hand and the sort of smile on his face that radiates comfort, as though he’s been in Dorne all his life, and is not simply a visitor. He speaks beneath his breath, tells Brienne that her eyes are sparkling like the ocean in the Dornish sun—she can’t help but blush, as she has a bad habit of doing when he speaks, and she wonders how one person can dominate her vision and obscure her senses more than the blinding sun in the sky.


	10. Jaime/Brienne + pillow fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a prompt from alias-sd6 on tumblr. Date unknown.

Jaime begins with an apology, a "wench, I meant no offence by it,"—but his words fall on deaf ears, as Brienne lifts a cushion from the seat in his chambers and shoves it against his face. They’re at a point in their friendship, or relationship, or whatever it is that has developed between them, that their fighting is no longer acrimonious as it was on the journey from Riverrun, but something closer to playful. Jaime grabs the cushion and tries to wrench it from his face, but Brienne is too strong for him, and she pushes him back with all her force—and when Jaime manages to move the cushion away from his face, they’re so close that their mouths are almost touching, and all he can do is let out a breath in surprise, a gasped and hushed " _oh_."


	11. Jaime/Brienne + skating lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a prompt from alias-sd6 on tumblr. Date unknown.

Brienne turned around sharply when she heard a thud behind her, and frowned at all six-foot-two of the graceless man who’d just fallen on his arse—after half an hour on the ice, Jaime was getting _better_ , but clearly not good enough to skate without her holding his hand.  
  
“Get up,” she said, trying not to sound too amused, and trying to ignore that stupid, desperate face he was pulling. She’d only told him to let go in the first place because holding hands was making her blush too much.


	12. Jaime/Brienne + bad valentines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a prompt on tumblr. Date unknown.

“I don’t know what to do,” Brienne tells Margaery, wedging her phone in the crook of her neck as she takes the frying pan off the stove. “I’ve made a fancy meal for both of us, pulled out all the stops, but all of today he’s been sending me these dumb Valentine’s jokes from tumblr, and they’re just—they’re so awful, Marg!” 

Margaery’s voice echoes down the line loud and clear: “Dump him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's kind of a pity I found this one last. For the record, Brienne does not take Margaery's advice :P


End file.
